


Parasite

by dralexreid



Series: Dr Piper Bishop [46]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid
Summary: An FBI agent from the San Diego White Collar Crime Division seeks assistance from the BAU when the con artist he has been tracking for years starts to murder his victims.
Relationships: Dr Spencer Reid/Dr Piper Bishop
Series: Dr Piper Bishop [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972852
Kudos: 19





	Parasite

“Look, I love Miami as much as the next guy—”

“No, you don’t,” Derek interrupted Piper from his seat across from her.

“But white-collar crimes?”

“Maybe actually go through the file and you won’t find it so boring,” Emily said in a sing-song voice as she pushed a file towards her. Piper grumbled from her seat as she took it, scanning through the file before JJ arrived with the man who requested their assistance as Spencer passed her a Skittle from under the table. They heard the subtle crinkle of plastic as he shoved the mini packet in his pocket. Though it had to be noted, Rossi thought, that the last time he’d felt caught, he’d shoved the entire packet in his mouth and Derek had covered for him by making up an excuse about anaphylaxis to the detective as Piper stabbed a pen lightly into his leg.

“Everyone, this is Agent Russell Goldman from the San Diego white-collar team,” JJ presented the agent. “You've already met Agent Hotchner. These are Agents Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Dr Reid and Dr Bishop.” Spencer waved and Piper smiled at the agent.

“A pleasure. I’ve been following this con artist for 5 years but 2 nights ago, I think he may have killed someone.” The team nodded solemnly, switching their gaze to JJ’s screen.

“Carla Marshall of Miami was found dead in her home. Asphyxiation by strangulation. She also had trauma wounds to the head.”

“Why do we think the con man killed her?” Hotch asked from the back.

“Last week, Carla contacted a fraud website to report a scam. The complaint ended up on Goldman's desk.”

“We spoke on the phone at length. Her story matched my guy to the T. She planned on confronting him that night. I told her to cease all communications and wait for me, I'd fly to Miami and set up a sting,” Goldman said, picking at his thumbnail. “But that never happened.”

“Do you have physical evidence confirming it's your guy?” Derek voiced from his seat next to Emily.

“No, but for her to be murdered the night that we spoke, I don't think it was a coincidence.”

“There was no sign of forced entry, theft, or sexual assault,” Hotch explained, leaning into Derek as he spoke.

“And judging from the M.O., the motive was personal,” Rossi added.

“Maybe she caught him out, he got angry, lashed out,” Piper mused. “Didn’t want his con to fall apart.”

“What's his hustle?” Emily asked.

“Investment fraud. Basically, he's a smaller Madoff.” Piper turned to Rossi to mouth _Who’s Madoff?_

“Investment banker defrauding dozens of people,” he whispered back as Goldman turned to JJ.

“To give you an idea of how convincing he is, this is a sampling of his work going back 14 years.” Icons of people spread out throughout the map of the lower east end of the US.

“It’s prolific,” Spencer commented under his breath.

“He's scammed hundreds of thousands of dollars from people, but he's never been violent before,” Russell said.

“Con men usually don't murder, but when they do, it's to conceal their crimes,” Rossi started to explain.

“Con man's a nice name for these guys,” Derek scoffed. “They profile as psychopaths.”

“They see their cons as theatre and themselves as a sort of puppeteer,” Spencer continued. “They have to have absolute control over their victims and their cons.”

“Losing that control precipitates violence,” Piper maintained. “Their confidence in the con shatters which reflects on future cons.”

“He could go on to kill others when those cons fail too,” Emily surmised with wrinkled brows. “Also is there a better word for con?”

“Scam?” Piper suggested.

“Fraud?” Derek smirked.

“Hustle?” Spencer added.

“Don’t forget hoaxes!” Rossi included before Hotch cleared his throat, putting an end to their good mood.

“Well, my point was that if he's spiralling, he's a danger to everyone around him.”

“And because he's so charming, the victims never see it coming,” Hotch finished. “Wheels up in 30.” The group got up, chuckling as they walked into the bullpen to grab their bags and a cup of coffee for the road.

* * *

Hotch almost laughed at Dave’s contorted expression as Russell invaded his space to look out the jet window. Rossi could smell the man’s overpriced cologne and practically feel the other man’s beard as Agent Goldman looked out the jet. “I still can’t believe you guys have a jet,” he proclaimed, moving over to JJ’s side.

“Yeah, we take turns piloting it. You wanna give it a try?” Emily deadpanned as Piper choked slightly.

“Really?”

“No,” Emily replied as Derek smirked, both at Russell’s face and at Spencer’s terrible attempt to throw a water bottle over to Piper, accidentally hitting her head with the top of it. She waved off Spencer’s profuse apologies with a laugh before the team returned to the case at hand. _Children. I work with children,_ Hotch thought as they delved into the case.

“What kind of forensic countermeasures does he use to hide his trail?” Derek prompted Goldman.

“Fake IDs, disposable phones, prepaid credit cards, foreign bank accounts.”

“You can't track his accounts overseas?”

“We can, but it takes months to get the records, and it only takes him seconds to transfer money again and again. By the time you figure out it's in the Bahamas, he's already moved it to Switzerland or somewhere else. I've always been too far behind him.”

“Well, we're a lot closer now because of Carla. What made her suspicious in the first place?”

“She needed to get her father into a retirement home, and when she called this guy Grant Dale to free up her money, he never returned her phone calls.”

“A con man's first instinct is flight, not fight,” Emily conceded.

“What makes him kill, though, isn't financial, it's psychological,” Spencer countered.

“That's what we need to concentrate on,” Hotch stated firmly. “Why Carla and why now?” He took a deep breath. “Morgan, Prentiss go to Carla’s house, see what you can find out. Agent Goldman, why don’t you join them?”

“Well, I sent the files to the Field Office, shouldn’t I come with you to help you out?”

“I'd like to go through them independently, come up with our own theories, see if any behavioural patterns emerge that'll help us get ahead of him.” They spent the rest of the flight mostly in silence, looking over the file with the odd coffee urge or bathroom break.

* * *

As Morgan, Prentiss and Goldman drove to Carla’s house, the others moved over to the Miami Field Office where a man led them to the file room where Piper groaned at the towering boxes of files. “You have got to be kidding me,” Rossi remarked.

“We have to go through all of that?” JJ grumbled before Piper asked if it was too late to join Emily and Derek.

“Yes. White-collar cases often come down to a paper trail."

“This is why I hate white-collar crime,” she murmured under her breath.

“Maybe it won't be so bad. I mean, at least it's well organized,” Spencer voiced, optimism ingrained in his tone.

“I don’t care if it’s colour-coded, Spencer. This is the gate to my own personal hell,” Piper muttered bitterly.

“Besides, that's his job. He sits at a desk all day and accumulates paper evidence.”

“All right,” Hotch said, putting an end to the discussion. “Dave, you work victimology. Reid, see if you can find anything in his travel patterns. JJ, you get started on a geographical map and Piper, get a timeline up on the board. I’m gonna check in with Morgan. Let me know what you guys need.”

“Food and coffee!” Piper yelled out as she pulled out some markers from her bag and dragged the glass board horizontal to the wall while Spencer skimmed through the box labels. They worked for a solid hour until Hotch came back to alert the team of Derek’s findings. Spencer clicked through the various websites, calling out each name for Piper to write out on the board while JJ went to retrieve Carla’s phone records.

“The CIA assigns an agent 2 or 3 aliases at most,” Rossi said. “Any more than that, and it's difficult to keep the names straight.”

“This guy's juggling 10,” Piper scoffed.

“Being all these people, that has to start fracturing him somehow.”

“If his memory is strained, it could be causing him to lose control,” Spencer suggested.

“Except his personality in each alias may well be the same,” Piper mused, tapping a marker on her chin. “He has to remember each investment and his alias.”

“We have the current aliases,” Hotch considered. “We just need to know who the clients are.”

“Even if we do, we don’t get any closer to finding him,” Piper murmured out of earshot as JJ stormed in.

“Just got Carla’s phone records. She made several calls to an unknown number the night she died. I tracked the number. It was a disposable phone that hasn't been used since.”

“That's gotta be the unsub's number,” Rossi surmised. “He tossed it after he killed her.”

“Over the past few months, she routinely called this number really late at night.”

“How late?” Hotch asked.

“Like bedtime late.”

“You don't do business with your investment manager at bedtime,” Hotch said, eyes glazing over in thought.

“I don’t get it,” Piper said, pacing. “If he gets caught out, why doesn’t he just blackmail the victims? Why kill people he’s getting money from and is having affairs with?”

“Panic?” Rossi suggested. “Maybe he’s never gotten caught out before.”

“He’s also never had to juggle 10 aliases at the same time before,” Spencer added as Piper stopped, pocketing the marker.

“So what? He’s having a nervous breakdown?” JJ asked.

“He’s definitely having a psychotic break,” Piper said. "Or will soon anyway. His lies are so complex that the moment it shatters, so will he."

“Also, they don’t call them nervous breakdowns anymore. It’s called— never mind,” Spencer trailed off half-heartedly, catching JJ’s facial expression. Piper caught sight of Emily and beamed as the latter walked through the doors of their little room with Russell Goldman. She moved to flip the board over, so they saw a list of places their unsub had travelled to.

“Carla ever mention anything about an affair with the unsub?” Piper asked.

“No, but it's always been a challenge with fraud victims to be totally forthcoming. They're so embarrassed about being duped, they don't tell you everything.” Piper nodded as Rossi spoke.

“We'd like to compare notes,” he started.

“Shoot,” Goldman replied.

“I'm looking at the victimology.”

“Yeah. We say affinity groups,” he amended. “Same thing. It refers to victims with shared interests.”

“Okay. We're in your world, we'll use your terms. Your files point to specific affinity groups he targeted in the first few cities. Does this look accurate to you?” He pointed to the board.

“Yes, it does. Once he got beyond San Diego, his victims are all over the place. No shared interests.”

“I came to the same conclusions.”

“So, he stopped using affinity groups and found his victims somewhere else.”

“Question is, how?” Hotch posed. “Let’s dig through their lives, there’s got to be a connection.” And, so they did as the day stretched on while nerves started to fray. A minor war almost started between JJ and Derek when he accidentally knocked over a pile. Even Penelope had called once every few hours because she was getting lonely. Slowly, the team began to yawn, stretching as they complained before trudging off to their hotel rooms for the night. Soon, Hotch, Spencer and Piper were the last ones in their conference room still going through files of victims and financial records. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, even Hotch succumbed to yawns but it wasn’t until Piper threatened to drown him in files that he finally left. Piper had somehow slipped down to the carpeted floor where she sat cross-legged, skimming through files.

“You know, for someone who purportedly hates white-collar crimes, you still haven’t gone to bed.”

“Can’t sleep,” she muttered before looking up. “And I do hate white-collar crimes. But usually, it’s tax fraud and other boring stuff. Women are being duped by this Ponzi wannabe and dying for it.”

“You could try to get some sleep,” Spencer offered.

“No,” she snapped before closing her eyes in the realisation of what she just did. She set aside the file, dropping her head into her hands as she apologised. Over and over again.

“Piper, you need sleep.”

“I—I don’t want to.” Spencer looked confused as he moved from his seat to beside her, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend. They didn’t have to worry about professionalism, not at 2 am, not when anyone that mattered was probably asleep.

“I’m a doctor, remember? And my diagnosis is that you need to sleep.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“I’m terrified.” She laced a hand through his.

“Is it…him?” Piper shook her head.

“It’s… I can’t talk about it.” Suddenly, her warmth had left his body as she dived back into work.

“Pipes, why can’t you—”

“What if he isn’t having a psychotic break?” Piper looked at him with new eyes. She’d gone into Dr Bishop mode, working her brain to break through with the case, desperate to protect the world.

“What do you mean?” She shuffled her body to face his.

“What does the DSM say about personality disorders?” Spencer closed his eyes, using his recall that had made him such a significant asset to the FBI.

“One essential feature is an enduring pattern of inner experience and behaviour that deviates markedly from the expectations of the individual’s culture and is manifested in either cognition, affectivity, interpersonal functioning or impulse control.”

“It must be part of cluster B, maybe borderline?” Piper asked before she collapsed backwards to stare at the ceiling and groan. “Or maybe it’s narcissistic?”

“He does fit the criteria for narcissistic personality disorder. But that doesn’t help us narrow it down.”

“Well, we are in Miami. It’s gonna be hard to find someone without narcissism.”

“Goldman, maybe.” She laughed.

“That man doesn’t have a narcissistic bone in his body. And I still haven’t forgiven you for that water bottle attack.”

“I apologised for that,” Spencer spluttered, and Piper beamed as she straightened up to lean her back on the wall.

“Okay, so something must have happened in San Diego to boost his ego. I mean, he deviates from the pattern, he uses more aliases.”

“And as each identity cracks, he has to change personalities. He’s starting to unravel.”

“Stress is probably a huge factor. But what could cause so much stress?”

“Maybe he’s becoming dependent on it?” Piper closed her eyes.

“He starts with Billy and variations of William in his first crimes and with Carla. Then he starts to complicate his con.”

“Uses full names. Maybe to make the plot more credible.” Piper nodded at Spencer’s words. “He’s only been using all these aliases in the past few months.”

“9 years since he was first in San Diego. Why now? He needs this con to be more credible now.”

“We are in a recession. With the economy in this state, he needs the con to survive.”

“But it’s not like he’s burning through money. He’s getting huge sums of money, probably has savings.”

“Which means he probably has a savings account, right? We could get Garcia to track it tomorrow morning.” Piper nodded, stifling a yawn. “Look, we just got a break. Why don’t we get back to the hotel, you can take a nap?” Piper closed her eyes. “I’ll be with you the whole time.” Slowly, she nodded, and Spencer pulled her up. They’d decided to walk to the hotel together, both of them too tired to drive. She pulled her blazer closer to her chest as she walked next to Spencer, occasionally bumping into him accidentally. They listlessly climbed the stairs to their room before Piper fumbled with the key to the door. Neither bothered changing, simply depositing their jackets on the armchair before collapsing into bed. “Next time,” Spencer murmured in her ear, “let’s just bring the boxes to the room with us.” Piper chuckled before her eyes closed against her will.

A single yellow light flickered. Irene Simmons stood in front of her, gun in hand. In front of her were two little children. Charlie, she noted, and Lydia. Her kids. Their kids. Piper screamed, yelling for Irene to stop as she started singing. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by the toe. If he roars, let him go. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe!” She giggled in glee as Piper stared horrified at Irene pointing a gun to Lydia’s head. “Mommy?” _Bang!_

Piper shot up, gasping as she struggled to breathe. Her lungs were burning as she cried out her name. Spencer was up in a flash, pulling Piper to his chest as he rubbed circles into her back. “I’m here. I’m here, love.” But all Piper could say was the name of a daughter she’d never have. “Breathe,” he whispered as she sobbed into his chest until they fell asleep, tangled in sheets.

…

Spencer woke up to the smell of coffee permeating the hotel room as Piper swirled a spoon through her cup of coffee, her hair still slightly damp from the shower. She was already dressed too. “What time is it?” His voice was drunk with sleep, something Piper always found adorable. She glanced at her wristwatch.

“6 am. You’ve got time to grab a quick shower and I’ve left coffee for you.” Spencer dragged himself out of bed, half woken at the smell of coffee. He used a hand to comb through his hair as he got up. “It’s only instant coffee though. It was the only way they’d send up the milk and sugar.” He noticed his clothes neatly set out on an armchair before he turned around.

“What time did you wake up?” Piper stared at her mug, watching the milky brown liquid swirl. “Piper.” His voice had gone deathly quiet as he invoked her name.

“You already know. What’s the point in asking me?”

“It takes you no more than half an hour to shower, on average it takes hotels up to 5 minutes to send up some coffee and you’ve set out my clothes which weren’t folded in my bag. Did you or did you not wake up at 5 am when you fell asleep at 3?” Piper closed her eyes. “Piper, do you understand how serious this is?”

“I’m perfectly aware of the implications of insomnia in our line of work,” she stated calmly, and Spencer sighed, rubbing his face with both hands.

“Tell Hotch you need the day off. Get some sleep, please, Piper.” She scoffed.

“Spence, I can’t spend more than an hour with my eyes closed before I see…” She trailed off again, staring into her mug. Spencer moved to sit at the corner of the bed.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” he said. “If you could tell me about seeing Arthur and the rest of the team and your mom in your dreams, why is this one so hard?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she protested.

“You could let me try,” Spencer practically yelled. Piper knew she should tell him. “Was it Andrew? It’s fine if you still—”

“It’s not Lisbon, Spence.” Piper closed her eyes. “It’s hard to explain, okay.”

“I’m here,” Spencer said, stretching out his arms. “I’ll listen to whatever it is you have to say.” Piper looked ready to cry, her eyes puffy, nose slightly red as she clasped her mug so hard it should’ve cracked.

“When Irene had me in those chains, she didn’t have any drugs or anything to make me go to sleep. So, she went the old-fashioned way. Conking me on the head with a crowbar,” Piper sighed. “I’d had a concussion, went into a lucid dream state and…I saw you and me and…” Piper met his gaze, listening intently. “Promise me, Spence. Promise me that this won’t change us.” Spencer took her hand.

“Nothing you could do or say would change how I feel about you.” Piper smiled at him so softly that he thought it would break.

“We were married,” she whispered, her eyes closed as the smile spread. “And we had these adorable kids. Charlie Morgan Reid-Bishop and Lydia Penelope Reid-Bishop.” But slowly her smile faded. “But last night, I dreamt that Irene killed her. She killed our Lydia. And it was all my fault.”

“I’m sorry, we hyphenated?” Piper opened her eyes, letting out a laugh at Spencer’s puzzled expression.

“I saw our daughter die and that’s what you’re worried about. That we hyphenated?” Piper pouted, setting her mug on the table before Spencer pulled her to the bed.

“Look, all I know is if we decide to go down that path, get married and have kids, you are going to be the most amazing mom ever.” Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And we will always protect them,” he added, beaming radiantly at her.

“You’re never going to stop teasing me about this, are you?” Spencer shook his head and Piper let out a shaky laugh before settling her head onto his shoulder, her hair tickling his neck.

“And as for your night terrors,

“Just try to get some sleep, okay. I’ll vouch for you with Hotch and call me if you have a breakthrough or need me to pick you up, okay?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to take a shower. Piper ran her hands through her hair and by the time Spencer came back out, Piper had already collapsed into bed, asleep. He smiled softly, worry lines still creasing into his face. He pressed a small kiss to her forehead before grabbing his bag and leaving for the field office.

* * *

Meanwhile, Emily stood over the limp man, surveying the damage done to his skull. “So, the unsub and the victim are having drinks,” Rossi thought aloud to Emily. “The vic has a chequebook and pen out, check's dated, but that's it.”

“The unsub got that close to getting his money, somehow failed, and then did this.”

“Yeah, but this is overkill.” David gestured to the poor man’s broken body. “He bashed the guy’s head in. He's completely unhinged and devolving fast.”

“Only he doesn't know that,” Emily added, looking up at David. “He's still trying to go to work and he doesn't know he's in danger of losing it at any minute.”

“Like a functioning alcoholic,” he agreed.

“The unsub channels all of his energy into these cons, and when the con falls apart, this is how he handles it.” Her heart panged for the broken soul that lay on the floor of the boat, closing her eyes for a beat before looking up to see Goldman walking in from his interview.

“Did they have transgressions?” Rossi asked gently and Goldman nodded as the pair caught sight of JJ consoling the man’s wife.

“She’s pretty beat up about it.”

* * *

Derek sat in front of a large pile of files, reading through one, only to be reminded of a hundred others. He slapped the one he held on a ‘done’ pile before grabbing another, catching Spencer’s fight to suppress a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this,” he grumbled, and Spencer looked up, catching sight of Piper coming through the corridor with Hotch in tow.

“I like a good paper trail,” he bluffed. “I find it meditative.”

“Is it really that hard for you to be normal just one time?” Hotch walked through the doors and Piper passed a coffee to Derek who accepted it gratefully. She took a seat next to Spencer as Hotch made his announcement.

“Unsub just burned another alias.”

“You know, if this guy's on a mission to eliminate all these aliases, he's gonna systematically assassinate his victims,” Derek said, dropping his file on the desk.

“Carla lived in Miami,” Hotch said thoughtfully. “This victim, Frank McKelson, lived north in Fort Lauderdale. The victims could be anywhere in South Florida.”

“If he's working harder because of the economy, it makes sense that he would expand his operating zone,” Spencer concluded as Piper rubbed her face with one hand.

“Prentiss and Rossi are on their way back. We need to give the profile,” Hotch said finally.

“There's something else about San Diego,” Piper noted, standing up and moving over to the timeline. “I noticed in his earlier crimes he only stays in each city an average of 14 to 18 months. Then he's in San Diego for 3 1/2 years and then never in the same city for that long again.”

“All right, so what is it about San Diego that made him stay longer? Keep following that with Reid. See where it takes us.” Piper nodded at Hotch before taking her seat and pulled a file towards her as Hotch left to answer his phone, presumably from Rossi. Derek smiled into his cup of coffee as he noticed Spencer’s hand inch over to hers between the files. Piper squeezed his hand before remembering something Hotch said.

“Have we looked into where he’s been staying?” Derek stared at her questioning look.

“Yeah, no hotel bookings match any of these names.” She stood up, moving over to the map.

“His victims are in different towns, but LA to San Diego is a two-hour trip by car, less if he stays in between.”

“Miami to Fort Lauderdale is almost 40 minutes,” Derek added.

“35 minutes by the I-95, 38 if you go by Florida’s Turnpike,” Spencer corrected, making Derek sigh and Piper chuckle.

“He’s gotta be living somewhere in between but all in all, he still spent more time in California.” Something was missing, she could feel it in her bones.

“We need to look at the differences from his behaviour before San Diego and after,” Derek directed and Piper noticed JJ walking in.

“We need to interview the victims,” Piper noted.

“They’re ready for the profile.”

* * *

“This unsub is a white-collar con man who embodies what behaviourists call the dark triad... Narcissism, Machiavellianism, and aberrant self-promotion,” Hotch started, gazing out into the scattering of federal agents before them.

“What that means is that everything revolves around this guy. He manipulates and exploits others using dishonest tactics, and he's become a menace to society,” Derek explained before the delivery moved to Rossi.

“He's also what we call a Casanova con man. He seduces women to get to their money. It's standard behaviour for him to have casual sex with multiple partners and then use that as a weapon to accomplish his goals.”

“He frequents high-end venues...” Emily took over. “Country clubs, hotel bars, and membership-only establishments.”

“And notify the banks,” Goldman interrupted. “He’s constantly moving money, opening and closing bank accounts.”

“He's active in Miami and Fort Lauderdale, but he could be in other wealthy communities, too. Look at places like Boca Raton or Coral Gables,” Emily continued.

“He has too many aliases in his head right now and it's causing him to fracture mentally,” Piper started. “This mental fracture means he’s starting to lose control and panic. That stress and need for control triggers his violence and makes him dangerous to be around. Any additional stress will make him more likely to attack, so be careful when approaching him.” Piper caught sight of JJ and Spencer, nodding to Hotch before she slipped away to join them.

Emily noticed from over the tops of the agents head as JJ pointed to different rooms for Spencer and Piper to interview past victims. After they wrapped up the profile, the team filtered into their workroom, noticing Piper scribbling things on the whiteboard as Spencer dictated them.

“You guys have something?” Hotch asked.

“Probably. Garcia’s promised to confirm what we think happened in San Diego,” Piper said brightly.

“We spoke to his victims. Before San Diego, they described him as driving exotic sports cars. After San Diego, they described him as driving larger sedans and SUVs. Before San Diego, he lived in condos, referred to them as bachelor pads. After San Diego, spoke of living in gated communities with large yards,” Spencer summarised, and Piper beamed at their faces as each slowly started to understand what had happened. Except for Goldman.

“What does that mean?”

“What forces a man to stay put in one place for a while, downgrade his car, upgrade his house? These are lifestyle changes a new dad would make,” Piper explained.

“Why would he start a family?”

“Because he wants to appear normal, and a family does that for a psychopath,” Hotch explained, moving over to the table to take a seat and going through the files with renewed effort.

“Wives usually serve a purpose, as a caretaker or homemaker,” Spencer continued. “They value their offspring as an extension of themselves and it also feeds their narcissistic ego.”

“These are interesting theories, but how does this help us?” Russell asked.

“As a forensic countermeasure, con men put everything in their wives' names,” Derek said, taking a seat next to Spencer. “Bank accounts, cars, homes.”

“And if his wife isn't complicit in his crimes, she'll still be using her real name,” Emily pointed out. “If we find the wife, we can find the unsub.” They all turned to see JJ walk in with takeout food for the team as she spoke to someone on the phone.

“Garcia’s going through marriage and birth certificates from 2001 to 2004 in California,” JJ reported. “Safe to say it’s gonna take a while.” Piper snickered softly as she took a seat.

“It’s in California. I wouldn’t be surprised,” she murmured to Emily as the latter laughed before she dug into her pizza.

* * *

The next morning, Emily looked over the river rippling through the earth, the beauty contrasting the nightmare lain at her feet as Goldman joined her.

“Massive blunt force trauma to the head, same as the others,” she told him, sighing.

“Does it make sense for him to dump her like this?”

“He's killed 2 people in 2 days. His fracturing is intensifying. When a criminal devolves like this, they're capable of anything.” She heard Spencer’s voice from behind, stepping back to see him ducking under the yellow tape.

“JJ said a man reported his wife missing last night. The description matches the body. Name's Lorraine Horton.”

“Do we know anything about her investment history?” Goldman asked.

“The team's looking into it right now.”

“Ok, so he killed his first victim in Miami and then left town, came to Fort Lauderdale, killed his second victim here, but he didn't leave town for his third,” Emily summed up. “Is there a significance to him staying in Fort Lauderdale?”

“Guys, what if his family lives here? That's why he's trying to eliminate threats to himself here, 'cause this is his home where he needs to protect his identity,” Spencer asked. Emily nodded slowly before pulling out her phone and calling a familiar number.

“Hey Garcia,” Emily called out.

_“Em, I feel like I've been sent on a wild snipe hunt. Do you have any idea how many women in South Florida lease luxury cars and rent mansions? I will answer. Too many. That's how many.”_

“Okay, narrow the search down to Fort Lauderdale only. Look at women who moved here 8 to 12 months ago. See if any of them have any history with San Diego.”

 _“Ok. I'll call you back when I've found the elusive snipe creature.”_ Emily pocketed the cell, shrugging at Spencer as she walked back to the car.

At the bullpen, the team had congregated over stacks of piles, some heaps so high that Derek couldn’t see David sitting in front of him.

“So we talked to her bank manager. Turns out she got a large windfall from selling her mother’s house,” Rossi explained before handing over to JJ.

“Carla Marshall, the first murder victim was a real estate agent which got us thinking, we’ve been wondering how the unsub’s been finding his clients.”

“When you sell a house, your property becomes a public record. Your name goes on these lists. Lists compiled by lead brokers and sold to the real estate companies,” David continued.

“So, I called Garcia and she found that Lorraine Horton and the McKelsons both sold their houses through Ms Marshalls,” JJ finished to see Hotch with a faint quirk to his face, practically a gold star from him. They looked over to Emily.

“So that’s how the unsub found his victims. He used Carla to get her leads. That's why he targeted her. She gave him access to a list of people with a large number of liquid assets,” she summed up neatly, eyes flitting over to Piper who walked in while pocketing her cell.

“That was Garcia, she did that search on women who've lived in Fort Lauderdale for the last 8 to 12 months, who rent houses and cars and have a history in San Diego. Came up with about a dozen names, but only one of them works in real estate. Her name's Rebecca Hodges. She has a 9-year-old son, John Davison Hodges, born in San Diego, father on birth certificate listed as William Hodges. I got the address of the house she's renting, too.” Hotch stood up, grabbing the blazer he’d laid on the back of his seat.

“Let's head over there. Morgan, pull the son out of school. JJ and Reid, go over the list of potential victims. If anybody knows the unsub, send units to them. We’ll go to the unsub’s address.” Piper and Emily nodded at Hotch before moving down to the SUVs below. Emily threw Piper her Kevlar vest as Piper passed her an earwig before they settled into the SUV, headed for Fort Lauderdale. While all 3 SUVs merged into the affluent neighbourhood, the swerved onto their own relevant paths. Derek reached the school first, letting the team know that the unsub had pulled the kid out of school. Meanwhile, JJ couldn’t get a hold of Brooke Sanchez as Piper and Emily realised that he was planning to take his family and move. Hearing this, Reid called Garcia immediately, asking her to track Rebecca Hodge’s phone. The issue was, she eloquently described, that two phones were registered to her name and both were active near Mrs Sanchez’s residence. Emily stepped on the pedal, racing to get there on time.

“ _What’s the wife doing with Brooke Sanchez?”_ Rossi’s voice pealed out of the earwigs as all 3 SUVs attempted to converge on one location.

“ _We don’t know it is the wife. Could just as easily be the unsub,”_ Emily pointed out.

“ _Maybe she was complicit the whole time?”_ suggested Derek.

“ _He would have used her in the ruse,”_ Hotch countered.

“ _What if she figured it out?”_ asked JJ.

“ _She’s right, the wife could have just doubted him, followed him to a location, met Brooke Sanchez,”_ Rossi mused.

 _“Except if William walks in on the two of them talking, the stress is gonna make him blow up.”_ Piper forced herself to think positively but Emily’s words didn’t help.

“ _Every time he’s come to the brink of failure, he’s reacted violently and aggressively,”_ Emily warned as she pulled up the massive house.

“Why does every bad guy have a better apartment than I do?” Piper muttered to Emily as she got out of the vehicle. Hotch, Rossi and Goldman pulled up next, exiting the vehicle in matching dark blue vests.

“We got a car down the street and one in the driveway. Both plates match the wife's name,” Rossi said, glancing at his notebook before placing it in his pocket.

“Remember,” Hotch reminded the group. “There's a 9-year-old boy in there and I wouldn't put it past him to hurt his own family.”

“Or himself,” Emily added.

“Ok, we'll take the back,” Piper offered as Goldman joined the pair of ladies to skirt past the edge of the premises, heads kept low as they handled their guns. “If he’s in there,” Piper whispered to her team fiercely as they quietly pushed through the back door. “He’s probably going through a psychotic episode as we speak.”

Rossi and Hotch approached the door gently, only to see it burst open with a middle-aged man they’d only seen before in sketches. He was handsome in his dove grey blazer with a soft pink shirt. It was no wonder, they would note later, that he conned so many women. The two men held up their guns, announcing themselves as Hotch noticed Emily and Piper pull the women behind her as they mirrored Rossi.

“Let the boy go to his mother,” Hotch warned, “and put your hands up.”

“You must be tired,” tried Rossi. “Keeping up with all these lies. You don't need to do this anymore. Let him go.”

Piper noticed the worry lines creased into his face as he swayed slightly, as though intoxicated. She heard Rebecca cry out behind her to let the kid go. The child’s voice was soft too as he called out his father’s name. She barely heard William’s voice as he instructed his son to go to his mom briefly after he pressed the boy to his torso. The next few moments flashed before her eyes as they flitted towards William’s hand pressing inside his pockets, various warnings being thrown out. She should have noticed the agent so used to white-collar crimes, never really needing a field experience, stand in the corner, in full view, with the perfect opportunity. Piper should have yelled out like Emily, talked him down like Spencer or tackled him like Derek, but all she did was stand there, stock still, a gun pointing at an unsub she wouldn’t have shot, only to hear a sound like the crack of a whip, only to see blood spurt from William’s chest and he fell as Piper pushed the gun into her holster and ran towards him, pressing two fingers to his neck. She felt the faintest flicker of a pulse before pressing her hands onto the wound to keep pressure on it as she yelled for an ambulance. She kept her position, fighting the urge to cry as Rossi confiscated Goldman’s gun, even after the EMTs arrived. She didn’t straighten until she felt Hotch’s warm hand on her shoulder, then looked back at Goldman mutinously before moving to her own SUV. Emily followed, leaving Goldman with a wife crying over the loss of a husband, a son crying over the loss of a father and a woman crying over the loss of a lover until he too followed Hotch and Rossi to their SUV.

Piper spent the 40-minute drive to Miami in silence as Emily drove. She watched the landscape flash past as the ambulance sirens faded in the background. Emily had watched her out of the corner of her eye until she muttered at her to keep her eyes on the road, remaining quiet until the SUV pulled into the street in front of the field office. The brunette barely waited for the SUV to stop, grabbing her blazer and pushing the door open as she blasted past the agents to the bathroom to wash her hands. She became Lady Macbeth, scrubbing her hands violently until Derek burst in. He stared for a minute while Piper’s grip on the sink slipped and her legs gave out. He practically skidded over to her as she started crying, heaving wretched sobs as she leaned into Derek’s arms until she had no tears left to cry. She nodded mutely at Derek's offer to take her to the hotel. Spencer barely saw the back of her head as she left, Derek's arm draped around her shoulder. He sensed Emily behind him and didn't bother turning to look. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know, Reid. I don't think she has been in a while."


End file.
